


Identity Crisis

by Lulzy (likelolwhat)



Series: For the Love of a Meme [4]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Assumptions, Community: skyrimkinkmeme, Gen, Humor, Marc is too stubborn to admit he guessed wrong, Mistaken Identity, Skyrim Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-23 23:11:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2559254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likelolwhat/pseuds/Lulzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A stubborn, presumptuous hireling, an exasperated Dragonborn, and a case of mistaken identity.</p><p>Or; what happens when the line between light-skinned Redguard and dark-skinned Imperial blurs, and Marcurio is a massive self-assured dork.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Identity Crisis

**Author's Note:**

> De-anoning from the skyrimkinkmeme, [this prompt](http://skyrimkinkmeme.livejournal.com/4941.html?thread=10176077#t10176077). Cleaned up a teensy bit from the version over thar.

Leila was starting to think that, "money's worth" be damned, she should really just tell Marcurio to fuck off and find his own way back to Riften. She was also thinking about demonstrating her Voice of the Emperor power and going on her way, but she wasn't that cruel to leave the hapless mage alone in Windhelm with a calming effect on him. No matter how many times he started his 'academic' queries on Redguard culture, she couldn't even bring herself to punch him in the face, much less do _that_.

"Mara’s mercy, you crazy bastard..." she grumbled as he blurted out a question on sexual practices in the Alik'r of all topics and followed up with a litany of increasingly bizarre and cringe-worthy excuses for it. Right in the middle of Candlehearth, and the Nords were starting to stare openly.

However, Marcurio just leaned across the table towards her with interest. "Morwha? I've heard she's an equivalent of Mara in the Yokudan pantheon—"

"I _said_ Mara. Not Morwha," Leila insisted, but the mage kept talking.

"—which brings me to what I should have asked first—"

Leila rolled her eyes. "You shouldn't have asked anything. I said I was Colovian the first time you remarked how rare Redguards are in Skyrim." By Akatosh, why did she bother anymore?

"—are you Crown or Forebear? I hear there's quite a difference in philosophies there..."

 _Dense as a horker_ , she thought. "Lhotunic," she said flatly, just to see if he was even listening. If so, why did he refuse to believe that she was just as Imperial as he was?

"Lhotunic? The third faction? Interesting..."

She _couldn't_ bother anymore at that point. Her right hook sent him flying across the common room and landing in the local drunk’s lap. Leila stood up, shaking out her aching hand — she might've broken his jaw, praise be to Akatosh — before grabbing Marcurio by the front of his robes and growling into his dazed face, "I. Am. _Imperial_. You. Fucking. Arsehole."

Marcurio groaned, spit out a tooth, and promptly fell unconscious.

"You there, Redguard."

Leila dropped the passed-out mage and turned slowly, ready to punch whoever had said that as well, but that idea was squashed by the guard who had addressed her drawing his sword and continuing, "You have done a crime against Skyrim and her people by assaulting this man, now either pay the fine or it’s off to the jail for you."

"Oh, for Mara’s sake—" she complained to no one in particular. "I don’t have any money. Spent it all on hiring this son-of-a-troll and just look where it got me."

"All right then. A few days in a cell should give you plenty of time to reconsider your life choices, aye? Weapons. Now."

Leila grumbled, plans delayed and her trip into Windhelm thoroughly ruined — she hated this city and never stayed more than a few hours, much less "a few days" — but set about unhooking the scabbard from her belt.

 _Scabbard_. Leila looked down, really seeing her weapon for the first time. Steel, taken from a bandit's corpse, a bit worn, nothing strange there. But it was the smooth curve to the blade that had her cursing.

A scimitar! She had been wearing a fucking _scimitar_ the whole time!


End file.
